


But Ryan Look at Her Shoes! (and other throam mini fics)

by She_comes_to_me_when_I_dream



Category: Panic! at the Disco, Ryden - Fandom, rydon - Fandom, the heart rate of a mouse, throam - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Panic! at the Disco - Freeform, Ryden, Rydon, the heart rate of a mouse - Freeform, throam - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-05-24 03:35:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6140304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She_comes_to_me_when_I_dream/pseuds/She_comes_to_me_when_I_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a collection of throam mini fics that will be updated whenever I feel like writing one. *All credit for Throam to the writer Anna Green*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Six months into their new relationship, Brendon brings home something Ryan doesn't expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This fic is not real and it never happened. I claim no ownership to anyone in it. Credit for throam goes to Anna Green who wrote it.

But Ryan Look at Her Shoes!

June 1980

 

Why is he showing me a centerfold? I mean this blonde chick is definitely what a straight man would call attractive but why is he showing me a centerfold? 

Are you straight now or something?

No Ryan that's fucking stupid. Why would Brendon be straight all of the sudden? Why would I even go there?

Still, why is he showing me a playboy? What is going on?

"Brendon? This is a playboy?" I force out. Fuck is he having a crisis? Things have been going great for six months. I love him so much. I can't... I can't lose him because he's started to think that something is wrong with him for loving me. And what would that mean for me? He's always been the confident one about his sexuality so if he thinks there's something wrong with it now then what does that mean for me?

"Why are you showing me this-" Fuck, I hope I sound neutral.

Brendon doesn’t look phased at all. Maybe that's a good sign... but maybe not. 

"But Ryan look at her shoes!"

Of course! The shoes! The high blue platforms with the cherry red and purple stripes. I find myself laughing before I know it. He's not leaving me for a woman!

"I love you Brendon-" I am laughing hopelessly.

"Ryan what do you think of her shoes?"

I'm trying to get it together, I really am.

"Why are you laughing at me?!"

"I thought-" I gulp in air and I think I might be able to calm down now, "I thought you were straight now and you were leaving me!"

"What?"

"Bren. You shoved a Playboy in my face." I say pointedly. He's so oblivious. Or maybe I am for thinking what I thought. But what was I supposed to think? Gay men aren’t exactly the biggest buyers of Playboy.

"I wanted you to look at her shoes! Why would I leave you?! And who is the woman I would be leaving you for? Her?! Ryan you are way hotter than this woman! I love you so much and you're like the hottest person I've ever seen!"

"Now what do you think of her shoes?" He pokes me in the side. He's not gonna let the shoe thing go. And I hate the way I seize up, ticklish, as he keeps poking me in the spots by my ribs. I was hoping he would just continue on about how hot I am and then he would frustrate himself so much over me that we would have to do something about it.

"Ooh Ryan's ticklish!" He pokes me a bit harder.

"You know I am. Quit that!" My voice wavers with giggles. Why am I blushing? I hate how he can make me blush. I push his poking hand away.

"The shoes are nice." I finally say a moment later. And they are. I'm not really sure what he wants me to say. I'm not an expert on women's fashion. I mean I have an idea of what looks good on them or what's supposed to be sexy from past girlfriends but it's not something I'm all knowledgable about. I am and always have been more concerned about what I wear and wore.

Maybe Jac would wear something like them if I still knew her. She was always in style. She's a designer. The platforms he's showing me have to be in style to be in a big magazine. Something tells me he wouldn't want to hear about an ex of mine though.

"They're nice?" 

Brendon looks as I expected, disappointed in my lack of an opinion. 

"I didn't buy this thing and carry it around town in a brown bag until I got home for you to tell me that the shoes are "nice"."

"Brendon what do you want me to say-"

"I like that they are different. I think it's rad. Normally purple clashes with red but the blue does something and it works-"

"Brendon why are you asking me if you clearly think they are so great that you actually bought a playboy? Did you buy anything besides the playboy?" I tease. I can feel the smirk twisting itself into my features. 

Brendon blushes. I can work with that. That's fine with me. Keep blushing babe.

"Actually I went out for food for the house. And it's put away in the kitchen. As fun as nonstop sex with you is, I can't live off of it."

"You haven't been complain-"

"And I also got that band The Police's album that we never got to listen to while I was out.” He tells me excitedly, his eyes all lit up and gorgeous like they always are when he talks about music. “Everyone is raving about it, saying Sting's group is gonna be the next big thing-"

"We'll see." I shrug noncommittally. I've heard plenty of artists over the years that have gone in one ear and out the other to buy into hype before I have actually heard a few songs. Brendon hasn’t been in the business as long as I have though.

I change the subject. "Now what were you saying about nonstop sex and me being the hottest man you've ever laid eyes on?"

"I wasn't." His pale skin betrays him and he blushes darker than before. He’s so beautiful.

"Don't play hard to get." I smirk a smirk that’s even bigger smirk than the last. 

"Ryan." He whines but I can tell he's not going to resist me. We never can resist each other which I don’t really have a problem with. "We've already done it twice this morn-"

"Come on Bren.” I don’t let him finish. I am going to get lucky with my boyfriend. “Take me to bed. Show me how gay you still are."

That's all it takes. He pounces on me. I don't think we're going to make it off the sofa and there is no other way I'd rather spend an afternoon with him. I guess those stupid platform heels were better than I thought.


	2. October 1980

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ryan what is going on? The guys need you for WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO DOING ON THE FLOOR?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This fic is not real and it never happened. I claim no ownership to anyone in it. Credit for throam goes to Anna Green who wrote it.

October 1980

"Sthaaaap!!!! W-Why are you doing t-this?!!!"

He's got me pinned to the couch in my dressing room and he's been jabbing me in the ribs for nearly five minutes straight. I'm squealing like a fucking idiot. I don't think I have ever squealed in my life. He's gonna get us caught, the asshole. The guys are gonna be bugging me about sound check any minute. They aren't going to give me all day to visit with my boyfriend even if I haven't seen him for a month and a half and it's been driving me crazy.

And why, for that matter, is tickling me like this the first thing Brendon decides to do when he sees me for the first time in a month in a half?

"Brendonnnn!"

"I haven't got to hear you laugh in person in over a month." He's smiling stupidly at me as I squirm. It kind of infuritates me but I kind of don't mind it because I am so attracted to him. I hate being so attracted to him.

"Brendonnnn! Stop itttt!"

"Can't."

"F-Fuckin' sthappp!" How have I not attracted anyone to this room? Are they all deaf or something?

"Don't think so babe."

"Brennn! Someone will s-seeee uh-us!!!"

"They're all outside doing sound check prep. You're mine Ryan."

I'm his. Heat is pooling in me because of his words. It really shouldn't be. He isn't being romantic right now. His eyes look sinister. He's clearly enjoying tickling me to death.  
I'm so stupidly in love with him. Why am I so stupidly in love with him? And why the hell can't I stop this annoying squealing?

"Bren! P-People will s-see you!"

"They'll just think I'm lucky. You're so pretty when you laugh Ryan." He digs his fingers in harder, his evil smirk has gotten bigger. "Keep laughing. This is what you get when I don't get to see you for a month and a half."

"Y-You made your tourrrr at the saaame time as mineeee! Sthaaap itttt!" Actually his manager from Columbia scheduled his tour dates so it's not really his fault we haven't got to see each other for so long and it's making us mental but that's beside the point right now.

His hand slides under my shirt and I feel his light fingertips on my stomach. I get louder if that's even possible. I thought my ribs were bad this is a whole new hell.

"Sthaaaap ittttt!" I beg desperately, hardly able to get the words out through my laughter. I have got to stop him somehow. I don't know how much more I can take.  
And I do. I'm not sure how but I manage to gather enough force and body control with the way he is tickling me but I jerk upward and make him lose balance and send us both crashing to the ground with a loud thump.

He gives me a look that's the darkest yet with desire for revenge because I knocked him on his ass. "Okay now you're going down Ross."  
He doesn't get the chance to jump on me again because I jump on top of his hips first, keeping him stuck on the floor with my body weight.

"Who's going down?" I smirk, my hands pressing into his shoulders so he stays flat even as he fights. "You're a creep Bren." I inform him.

"Aw. Thank you!" He smiles and fuck, I melt from the inside. And I'm still one of the only people he says thank you in English to. Hasn't changed. So that's something too. "You are so cute when you pretend to be mad at me."  
Fucking Brendon.

"Fuck! No, Brendon!"

How the hell did he get me on the floor again? "Stoppp!" His fingertips are moving over my stomach and now I sound even stupider than before with the noises I am making.

"Stopppp ittt Bre-" I can't even finish. I'm laughing too hard.

"Can't. I already told you Ry."

"Bren- Brendon!" I hear myself gasping."

"So adorable." He leans down and gives me a light kiss on the mouth. I don't enjoy it as much as I normally would because the tickling never stops. I enjoy it though. Because I always enjoy kissing him. It's one of my favorite things to do with him. So I'll put up with it, no matter how uncomfortable I am as I lay here laughing against his lips as I fail to kiss him back decently.

"Ryan what is going on? I could hear you halfway down the hall. The guys need you for WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TWO DOING ON THE FLOOR?!"

Shit.

"What does it look like? I'm kissing my beautiful boyfriend." Brendon shoots back as we both scramble to sit up. 

I'm gonna have a heart attack. Why would he say that to some random roadie that just caught...

Oh wait it's Sisky.

"What the fuck is wrong with you two?! What if it wasn't me who had walked in here?! What if it had been one of the roadies?! What if someone else had seen you two?!"

He sighs a moment later when he doesn't get a response from me or Brendon because we are still quiet from being caught. "Just come on Ross. They need you for sound check."

"Go." Brendon nudges me but he doesn't let me up until he's pulled me in so he can whisper how he'll just have to kiss me more later on tonight."

How am I supposed to do the show now? Tease.


	3. January 2017

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breathe in.   
> Exhale.  
> It can't be that.  
> But it sure looks like it.  
> It can't be. We're too old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: This fic is not real and it never happened. I claim no ownership to anyone in it. Credit for throam goes to Anna Green who wrote it.

January 1, 2017

What is he doing? He's forcing himself down on the floor by the dining table. I wish he would stop doing stuff like that. We're in our sixties and I know Brendon hates admitting it but we're not as flexible as we used to be. It would really just not be nice if I had to call an ambulance to the house to take him to the hospital because he breaks something or dislocates a hip or knee or something right after our anniversary dinner. 

Thirty-seven years now today. I wouldn't have even been able to imagine that we would be here right now in 1980 and in 1974 when we first started our off and on affair if you had told me that I would have laughed in your face.

"Brendon what are you do-"

"Ryan."

Wait... Is he…?

Breathe.

Breathe in. 

Exhale.

It can't be that.

But it sure looks like it.

It can't be. We're too old.

Breathe Ryan.

He's holding my hand and looking at me like I'm still some cocky twenty something rock star with tons of sex appeal instead of the sixty something year old man that I am, like my looks haven't changed at all. He hasn't changed. Even with glasses and white hair mixed with black and old age he's still gorgeous.  
And he's on the floor on one knee holding my hand and looking at me like I'm the only thing that matters in the universe. It's a look he's given me for over four decades, me and me alone. A look for the longest time I felt I didn't deserve. A look I sometimes still feel I don't deserve. He's such a good man.

Breathe.

It has to be something else. He's not about to do what it looks like he's going to do, not this late in life.

"Ryan, we told everyone publicly five years ago about how for most our relationship, we've had to hide that we are a couple, how we never got to kiss each other in front of people, or even hold hands, or show any affection at all. We both said we wanted to make up for lost time. I thought I would be okay with just continuing to be your partner without it being legal but now that it is legal I want to make up for lost time. These last thirty-seven years have been more than I could have ever asked for or dared to dream could happen when we were in our twenties. You've been so much more than a husband should be even without the title. Actually, that's bullshit. You are my husband but I want you to be my husband legally. I want the world to know you are my husband. We don't have to make this a public wedding. I know you hate people knowing your business. We can just get a nice suit and go down to the courthouse if that's what you want."

I can't believe this. Is this real? Is he real? 

Am I real?

I can believe he beat me to it because he's Brendon and that's just the way he is and always has been. Bold and raw and rash and never holding back in life. Always going after what he wants and not letting anyone or anything stop him. Never fearful or over thinking.

I can't breathe.

"I love you Ryan Ross."

I can't breathe.

"I love you more than you can ever imagine. I know by the way you look right now that you feel the same way."

Fuck.

Fuck. I can't start crying. Who cries when his partner proposes to him?

I know what he's about to say.

I am at serious risk of crying whether I want to or not. And I thought I was going to be the type of old man who could still kick serious ass if he wanted to.

"Ryan Ross, will you marry me?"

I'm shaking so bad. I somehow manage to nod my head. How I get the word yes out I have no idea.

He pulls me down and into a kiss. I am taken back to the night thirty-seven long years ago when we finally decided to be together for good and to so many others. So many years of kisses and love making that came from fights or missing each other while we were on tour or for anniversaries or just because we felt like it and couldn't keep our hands off each other without going crazy. I'm sure he didn't stand up because he probably knows that I wouldn't be able to stand right now.

"Brendon. You're not supposed give old men heart attacks." He's finally stopped kissing me and let us come back down to reality and our house around us.

"I'm happy I still do it for you Ryan." The expression on his face almost makes him look like the intoxicating roadie that was too sexy for his own good that I met over forty years ago, like no time has passed. It's not helping me recover at all but at least my heart rate is starting to get back at a normal level.

"You know Brendon; if I had any sex drive anymore I would jump your bones right now."

He smiles back at my smirk. It the same smile that has made me weak from the day we met.

"Ryan, you don't have to screw me. You can just help me up off the floor."

"Do you really think I can stand up after that?"

"I guess I'm stuck down here for now then." He carefully rearranges himself into a sitting position at my feet, joints cracking audibly, and then he's holding my hand again. "Happy 37th anniversary Ryan."


	4. The Night Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of the third of Anna Green's throam ficlets this time. Set the night before Brendon and Ryan arrive in Brendon's hometown in 1981.

1981

 

"Brendon, what's-"

"It's nothing. I'm okay."

"You look like you're about to cry. It's not nothing."

"It is. I'm fine."

We're lying on the bed in some motel room somewhere off Interstate 15 in Utah. We're not that far from his hometown.

Why is he so stubborn? I can tell from his voice and his face that he's about to cry.

It scares me.

We'd been in the car all day and half the night and were ready to drop the second I pulled into the parking lot of this place but he seemed wide awake when we got into the room. He'd pulled me to him urgently, crushing his mouth against mine, and told me he needed me. 

We're half out of our clothes. My shirt is off. He is in his shirt and underwear.

I should have known something was wrong by how he was shaking against me as we kissed and pulled at each other's clothes. I should have known he was worried about tomorrow and it's tearing him apart. I should have known.

"Please don't cry." I touch his face. I hear pleading in my voice.

I can't handle it when he cries. I love him too much. I can't handle watching someone like him be reduced to that. Especially when I'm the one who caused it.

Fuck.

I'm the one who caused this.

It was my idea to come up here. I tried to make it easier by saying we would do a road trip and get away together and this would only be a quick stop on it. He's had so many nightmares about his brother and what happened to him back in seventy-four. I flat out told him that he needed to come up here and go visit his brother's grave at least once, that maybe it would help.

Maybe I shouldn't have.

"Ryan." He tries to pull me back in.

Fuck. He's shaking even more now.

"Ryan please... Just kiss me. Please."

He's begging me.

I give him what he wants for a minute because honestly, I am afraid of what will happen if I don't. Maybe I am just trying to prolong the inevitable.

I pull away.

"Ryan. I really need you-"

"Bren, I can't have sex with you. Not when you're like this. Not right now."

It hurts so much to tell him no but I can't tell him yes.

The way he's looking at me, hurt from the grief he hasn't addressed fully that's been plaguing him and I know a little from my rejection, is making my chest heavy. Too heavy. My heart is breaking.

I reach for him. "Come here."

He turns on his side, back to me. He curls his body up.

"Brendon..."

No response.

l start pulling the covers back. They have a garish print of red, pink, and blue flowers on their harvest gold background. He moves just enough to allow it on his side of the mattress before going back to his former position. I pull them up around him. I find myself stroking his hair.

"Don't."

I feel almost stung. I jerk my hand away. I want to hold him and make him feel better. I want to take his pain away.

I get up and take off my jeans and walk around the bed to turn out the light.

I hear his tears start the second it's dark.

He didn't want to cry in front of me.

I told him not to cry.

Fuck.

I'm such an ass. Worried more about how it would affect me if he cried than about him crying.

I find my way back to bed and underneath the blanket. I try to inch my arms around his middle so I can pull him close to me but he's stubborn. He's so stubborn.

"Brendon. Please. Please let me." I try not to sound desperate but I think he hears it anyway. At least he stops fighting me.

"Come on. Come here." I wrap my arms tightly around his waist and press into his back, trying to get us as close as possible. His back is trembling.

"Why the fuck am I crying?! We weren't even close!" 

"He was your brother."

He continues sobbing quietly, clearly frustrated at himself and the mixed emotions he feels.

"Oh Brendon. Maybe this was a bad idea." Watching him so upset is only confirming to me that this was a bad idea and that I am huge bastard for even suggesting it to him.

"No! I need to go." He says firmly through tears. "I've been acting like it didn't happen for seven years. I'm such a piece of shit."

He starts crying harder.

I can't take it. I attempt to get him closer to me, try to hold him tighter and protect him from this, but it's not possible. We're as close as we can get and I can’t protect him from this. 

"You’re not Brendon. Please don’t say that. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re just… dealing with a lot that you never really dealt with. I'll do whatever you want to do. If you decide you don't want to go tomorrow, we won't."

"I need to go." He chokes out again.

“Then we will.”

"I hate going home." His voice is small. “I hate going home so much Ryan.”

"I know." I kiss his jaw. "I love you. Shh." 

I try my best to soothe him for a while but there’s really nothing I can do. He’s miserable. I wish I could cry and deal with this for him. I just want to stop his tears.

I just keep him close and tell him I love him and he eventually cries himself out.

I don’t let him out of my arms even though his breathing has evened into sleep. I hope he’ll sleep through the night but he probably won’t.

I close my eyes and lay there. I don’t plan to sleep any time soon. 

I just listen to him as the minutes tick by, making sure he’s still breathing calmly, wanting to be awake if he wakes up and needs me.


End file.
